My partner James and I recently had the great pleasure of visiting the Treshnish Isles. They lie just a few miles off the Isle of Mull on the West coast of Scotland, and sit amidst the Sea of the Hebrides Marine Protected Area. Now uninhabited, the Islands themselves are famed for their internationally significant nesting seabird populations, Atlantic seals, and human history. It’s going to be difficult for me to describe in words just how special this little chain of islands is, and the depth of the feelings I experienced whilst exploring them. The care of Islands has just been taken on by the National Trust for Scotland, and we had the enormous privilege of exploring the islands with their seabird officer, archeologist, botanist and rangers. The passion from these individuals for exploring, understanding, protecting, and helping to share this magical island chain was infectious, and once left to our own devices, armed with the knowledge passed on by these experts, James and I found ourselves utterly awed by them too.

For me it’s the seabirds that make the islands so special. Within minutes of arriving on Lunga, the largest of the islands, I found myself on a cliff within metres of puffins wandering around their burrows. Thousands of puffins nest on Lunga each year, and they’re the main attraction for the daily tour boats arriving from Mull and Oban. They have become habituated to our presence, and although it’s still important to retain a sensible distance so as not to disturb them, you’re able to get closer to them here than almost anywhere else in the UK. I think it’s important that people have the opportunity to really experience wildlife, provided it isn’t to the detriment of the animals, as this can create such a powerful bond and connection to nature that can fuel a drive to look after it.

Even though the puffins steal the show, there are many other birds nesting on the Treshnish Isles too – often in massive ‘bird cities’ comprising different species. There are razorbills and guillemots in their thousands, the latter particularly noisy on their main colony on Harp Rock on Lunga. There are shags nesting amongst boulders, their feathers shimmering a dark green; black-backed gulls soaring overhead, and one of the UK’s most threatened birds, kittiwakes, setting up their cliff-side homes. The Treshnish Isles are also home to 20% of the UK’s storm petrels, a tiny but hardy bird that nests in the walls of the ruined buildings and amongst the smaller boulders on the beaches.

And then there’s the plant life. Absolutely thriving, full of insects and delightful biodiversity, and a little bit different on each island. I revelled in walking and sitting amongst the deep, strong plants and I felt a huge grin spread across my face as I wandered through untouched nature – head high in some places. It all felt so raw, so real, so absolutely full of life, and exactly how it should be. It was a tonic amidst the norm of manicured lawns and concrete in ‘normal’ life.

Paddling on my SUP between the islands, I encountered curious grey seals who followed me on and off for a couple of hours; in the autumn they’ll have their pups here. Unable to resist the pull of the crystal-clear ocean, I wanted to see what it looked like under the surface for myself, so donned my mask and snorkel and found myself mesmerised whilst swimming amongst swaying seaweed and kelp.

Wild places like this are hard to find nowadays. I think it’s vital that we get the chance to spend time here – for our own wellbeing and sense of personal connection to the big picture, but also so we can understand them and stand up for them. On the other hand, I also think it’s dangerous to see places seemingly so full of life. In 2022, Avian Flu devastated seabird populations. Overfishing, especially of sand eels which are removed in huge quantities to make animal feed, is starving birds like kittiwakes who rely on them to survive. Climate change is altering the distribution of food for marine species, and the many other pressures on the ocean environment, such as the destruction of the seabed by trawling and dredging, and plastic pollution, are only making it harder for seabird numbers to recover. 

Shifting Baselines Syndrome means we’re only able to comprehend the state of nature within the boundaries of what we’re used to seeing in our lifetime. Visiting somewhere as nature rich as the Treshnish Isles, it might feel like there’s nothing going on to concern us. However, there are threats we can’t immediately see, and a gradual depletion of nature we might not be able to appreciate. We need to hold on to visions of the ocean thriving to a much greater extent than it currently is.